


Highschoolery

by drew



Category: Smallville RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-13
Updated: 2006-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drew/pseuds/drew
Summary: This is (obviously) AU, and grew out of a series of conversations on LiveJournal.  
Jared's new; Jensen's... not.





	1. Chapter 1

So way a long time ago in [ ](http://robanybody.livejournal.com/profile)[**robanybody**](http://robanybody.livejournal.com/)'s journal, [[there was a picture posted of Jared in a school uniform](http://robanybody.livejournal.com/228161.html)] from the apparently awful movie _Cry Wolf_ , and naturally discussion veered toward a High School AU. Max and [ ](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/profile)[**estrella30**](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/) and I were convinced that [ ](http://winterlive.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://winterlive.livejournal.com/)**winterlive** should write the thing, since, you know, she's good at what she does. But somehow in comments she and I ended up trading bits of things, and... well... she kind of conned me into comment-porning her. So this is me just collecting those bits in one place and continuing it.  
  
_highschoolery_ , a jsquared high school au  
  
_Danny wrote this_ :  
omg my high school au jenny is such a wicked flirt, i can feel him already.  
  
_and then I wrote this_ :  
I'd manage the track team just to get close to him, yes I would.  
  
_and she replied_ :  
there's rumors all over school that he's gay - it's pretty accepted, even though nobody's ever asked him about it, because he barely dates - but oddly enough, he rarely gets hassled by the guys for it. you would think, because he's a cheerleader and presumably gay and it's fucking texas, hello. but nothing. it's just weird.  
  
little does everyone know that after practice, he stands around with the guys from the team smoking outside the gym, telling everyone about what the girls gossip about in the locker room - who likes who, who's done what, who WILL do what, and who they did it with. they all think he's gay, so they don't censor. and the football team reaps the benefits, and thinks he's straight as an arrow.  
  
nobody really knows for sure.  
  
_and I wrote_ :  
Nobody except Jared, who is about five degrees of too tall, going through that awkward phase where he's taller than he feels. *He* only knows because Jensen likes to smoke in the middle of the day, when his PE class is out on the track. He has to go sit on the bleachers and massage his Achilles tendon, which he sprained while showing off doing sprints, so he goes over and he can see two people through the slats of the bleachers. They kind of break everything off as he approaches and one of them hurries away, tugging at his -- it's a guy, he can tell -- zipper as he goes.  
  
The other one is this *really* cute guy, a couple inches shorter than he is, who's unapologetically pulling a pack of Camels out of his jeans and flicking his lighter. Jared kind of doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything.  
  
_Danny_ :  
The guy's smoking under the bleachers, and Jared keeps peering through, sort of surreptitiously, trying to sneak glances at him. And it goes on for about ten full minutes before he realizes that the guy is _staring right at him_.  
  
_moi_ :  
And the guy is *obviously* not a freshman if he's got a free period. But then, he does look like the kind of guy who'd cut class to smoke and not get yelled at for it. Jared's conflicted, because he wants to find out what's up with this guy but he's afraid the first words out of his mouth would be something really, really dirty. Finally he just says "yeah?" and the guy pulls the cigarette from his lips as his mouth curls sideways.  
  
_Danny_ :  
so there's jared and he totally saw what he thought he saw, and he's freaking out. jen's in so good with the footballers, he can't get on jen's bad side or he's fucking toast at this school, he might as well not even go. and he's terrified about what jensen might ask, and so he should be, so he gets down off the bleachers and boots it into the school, hoping he can avoid.  
  
that works. for a day.  
  
_me again_ :  
And then he has the same damn problem the next day, when he's got gym, same time, same place, same stupid exercises. And his calves are still hurting because they don't heal overnight, especially not with the sprinting into the building he did to get away from Jensen the previous day. So he's got to do his stretches and go sit on the bleachers again, and he's a little worried he might see Jensen again.  
  
Which, of course, he does. But since he heads over earlier in the period, he catches a snatch of conversation as he's walking over there; the other guy is all worried about Jared walking over, but Jensen soothes him with a "nah, dude, he just wants to watch," and boy howdy does Jared respond to that.  
  
Jared is still going over to the bleachers, because he kind of has to -- that's what you do when you can't run laps, and his calves hurt *way* too much to do that. And, you know, he's kind of... no, he's *really* intrigued about what's going on. Intrigued and, er, *excited*.  
  
He gets closer and he can see the outlines of the two guys through the slats of the bleachers and his dick is saying "HELLO!" but he's still not saying anything. One of the guys is clutching at the metal supports at the back of the bleachers and one guy is crouched down around waist-height, his face practically *in* the other guy's pants.  
  
Time seems to slow down as he approaches the bleachers. You know, how there are things you shouldn't watch, but they're like a trainwreck and you can't look away? This is kind of like that, only instead of horriffic, it's really... hot. The guy who's standing up almost can't stay that way; his knees are quivering a little and Jared hears the light scrape of flesh on steel when the guy's hands tighten around the supports, trying to hold himself upright.  
  
Jensen pulls back, lazy, but his eyes flick in Jared's direction as he swallows.  
  
The other guy gets back to a place where he can, you know, *breathe*, and heads back shakily toward the building, zipping his fly like the other guy did yesterday. Yesterday's guy was tall and dark-haired, with huge guns, and today's guy is a little shorter, and bald, and he slides sunglasses on his face even though it's overcast. Jared thinks he's seen him somewhere before, because hello, not many bald guys in high school, but he can't place it.  
  
Jared finally makes it to the bleachers and plunks himself down, stretching out his right leg and working it with his hands, very carefully *not* saying anything to Jensen. He can feel eyes on him, though, and eventually he stops pretending not to care and just looks over through the slats at the guy who's leaning and smoking and generally doing fuck all.  
  
"What?" Jensen asks, between drags. "You want in, too?" His voice is a little lower than it looks like it should be, and a little raspier than it would be without the Marlboro Man, but it's his nonchalance about blowjobs that's got Jared completely hooked.  
  
There are about four seconds during which Jared considers playing the naïve card, but he gives up when he realizes Jensen's probably been playing it all his life. Plus, Jared's about six inches too tall to play it reliably -- it works on some people and doesn't on others, and he's virtually certain it won't work on Jensen. "Didn't realize you were giving out engraved invitations."  
  
"Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself." He puffs on his cigarette. "You always this nosy?"  
  
"Didn't know this bleacher was off-limits." Jared reaches out and grabs the toe of his shoe, stretching his foot up toward his shin and trying to tune out the anguished cry of his calf muscle.  
  
"You *must* be a freshman. Jezus." Jensen's eyeroll is just as offhand as his tone. "I'm a transfer and even *I* knew about the BJ Bench." He takes another drag. "And how to use it."  
  
Jared's attention is riveted to the cigarette, to what Jensen's lips do around it. "What do I have to, uh." He falters, completely unsure of how to even phrase the question. He's lightheaded from the continuous downward rush of blood, yet he's sure his face is a deep beet red.  
  
Jensen's smirk grows to colossal proportions. "Whatever, cowboy. You know you want it. Just ask." Again with the lips.  
  
"You taunt everybody this way?"  
  
"Just the ones I can freak out without doing much." His laugh is smoky and a little forceful, like a punch to the gut. He flicks ash from the tip of his cigarette with a practiced thumb and Jared comes to a decision.  
  
"Blow me." His chin sticks out just a little and he's surprised at his own voice; he sounds like sex.  
  
Jensen looks him up and down, then nods. "When?"  
  
"Right now, braniac; I only have ten minutes left in the period."  
  
So that's how Jared finds himself up behind the bleachers, arms practically wrapped around the metal crosspieces to hold himself up, alternating between staring and the short hair and red lips around his dick and flicking his head skyward in pre-orgasmic ecstasy. He comes almost embarassingly early, but Jensen doesn't say anything, just tucks his dick back in his gym shorts and breaks out another cigarette. Jensen's lips are glossy and a little swollen, and it's the hottest fucking thing Jared has ever seen in his entire life.  
  
It's also how he finds himself walking back to the locker room with his mind still behind the bleachers.  
  
The next day, he makes the stupidest mistake of his life: he tries to ask Jensen out.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

_highschoolery_ , a jsquared high school au, part 2

He doesn't really *mean* to do it, it just slips out. At least, that's what he tells himself later. It begins easily enough; he sees Jensen the next day -- and had he always had the locker two rooms down on the other side of the hall? Either way, Jared makes his way down in that direction, and sure, maybe he's practically vaulting over the other freshmen to get to where Jensen's calmly spinning the wheel on his combination lock, but whatever, he just wants to say thank-you.   
  
Jensen looks up to see what all the commotion is about and groans. By the time Jared reaches him, he's back to spinning the wheel.   
  
"Hey." Jensen doesn't respond. "Hey." By now, he's worked out the combination, and snaps open the locker with the awkward jerk of someone not accustomed to using one. As he slings his backpack forward to unzip it and start unloading books, Jared leans in close. "Hey!" he hisses.  
  
Jensen's eyes go heavenward and he pauses what he's doing. "Go away now don't even *think* about saying anything, and maybe I'll see you again." He doesn't turn around.   
  
Jared isn't sure exactly how to react. His first instinct is to haul off and slug Jensen, but that's not going to solve anything and certainly won't help him get that mouth wrapped around his cock any time soon. A tiny bit of him wants to run and hide in the bathroom until first period is over, but he brushes that off -- he's not in *middle school* anymore; he's not gonna *cry*. He settles for what he hopes is a nonchalant shuffle back to his locker, trying not to look rebuffed.  
  
Sometime around fifth period, just after lunch, he hears from Tricia Keller, who heard it from Marcy Dickinson, who is close friends with Claire the leggy blonde sophomore whose sister is on the cheerleading team -- they think Jensen the cheerleader is seeing someone. And not just *any* someone -- a *boy*.   
  
"He's only a sophomore!" Tricia gushes. "Isn't that *cool*? I mean, I wish *I* could make the cheerleading team as a sophomore, but then again he's a boy so he's got less competition, but he's *dating* some *guy*!" Tricia is about a stick of gum away from a stereotype, but her family has lived next door to the Padaleckis since Jared was in diapers and he tries to stay at least halfway on her good side, because even as a freshman she seems to know what's going on.  
  
Sixth period gym is fast approaching and Jared dreads it -- his calves aren't back to normal yet, but he doesn't think he could deal with another forty-five minutes of Jensen's stare. He gets to the locker room and his PE teacher takes him aside and asks how he feels about swimming -- he thinks Jared's the right body type for it, it would be easier on his calves, and maybe he'd enjoy the competition, blah blah blah, and the next thing he knows, Jared's sixth-period PE slot is filled from late September to Thanksgiving with laps through the pool and weight training in preparation for swim team tryouts.   
  
His first inclination is to immense relief. Swimming means no laps on the track, no sprints, and no stretching on the bleachers if he screws up -- which means no Jensen staring him down. Of course, once he's been in the pool for fifteen minutes it occurs to him that no Jensen also means no blowjobs, and that's. Well, that's really fucking depressing.  
  
So the fact that Jensen's leaning against the wall when he gets out of the pool is simultaneously welcome and terrifying. He hauls himself out of the water and towels off his face and hair; as hot as they keep it in the pool area, it's no use drying off the rest, since he'll just sweat anyway. Jensen doesn't seem to mind, though, and gives him a visual once-over.   
  
"Let's go."  
  
"Excuse me?" Jared slings his towel over his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Are you speaking to me all of a sudden?"   
  
"Shut up, freshman. We gonna go or not? 'Cause I got places to be."   
  
"People to do, yeah, yeah. So why'd you come look for me anyway?"  
  
"Thought you were gonna be a regular, then you don't show today? Sounds to me like panic. I had it happen before, can't be too careful." His hand twitches and Jared figures he's missing that cigarette something fierce. "Got a reputation to protect, know what I'm saying?"  
  
"Dude, you're a *transfer*."  
  
"And you're a freshman. Pond scum. But I'm not too picky -- just don't ever let me catch you coming at me in the hall again." He looks at Jared, still dripping there on the tiles. "Twiggy swimmer look's good on you, pond scum."  
  
"Yeah, fuck you."  
  
"You wish." Jensen smirks and it's the same look that had Jared hot and ready behind the bleachers. It doesn't fail him here -- Jared's already starting to fill out his Speedo uncomfortably.  
  
"You," Jared begins, but Jensen stops him.  
  
"Lockers, showers, or stands?"   
  
Jared bites his lip. "Stands."  
  
So Jensen swats him on the ass, wipes his now-wet hand on his jeans, and jerks his head in that direction.   
  
The second time is, if possible, even more incredible. Jensen flips down the Speedo and Jared lays down on one of the benches, limbs going everywhere. Jensen spreads Jared's legs and goes in for the kill, sliding his hand up Jared's chest while he goes to on his dick. When Jared's nearly there, Jensen tweaks Jared's nipple and Jared comes, hard. Jensen takes it all, swallows, and then wrinkles his nose. "Ugh, chlorine."  
  
Jared just lays there.  
  
"Next time, you shower first. Jezus." Jensen stands up and turns away.  
  
"Hey," Jared finally gets out, his voice rough. Jensen stops where he is and looks back over his shoulder. "You, uh. You doing anything Saturday?"  
  
"Hopefully my girlfriend, pond scum." Jensen grins and walks away, climbing silently down the stands, through the showers and locker room, and out into the school proper.  
  
Jared just lays there.


	3. Chapter 3

_highschoolery_ , a jsquared high school au, part 3

 

When Jared goes home after school, he tells his parents about his PE coach and swim practice, conveniently leaving out the bit about being blown in the stands. His father's a little disappointed that his son's not yet broad enough for football, but proud that Jared impressed the PE department. Besides, Jared's only a freshman and wouldn't make the football team anyway, probably not even JV. Still...  
  
"Swimming, huh? Not basketball?" His dad's not unsupportive, just... a little set in his ways. Real men play football and basketball, and play baseball or run track.  
  
"Well, I have to make the team first." Jared's doing his best to sound upbeat, to not let his dad get to him. "You know what the chances are for freshmen..."  
  
"But the coach picked you special, right honey?" His momma enters the conversation and Jared knows he's home free. He nods and she turns to his father. "When we see whether Jared makes the team, we'll have to call around the other parents and see if we can work out a carpool. You know swim practice is before *and* after school, and Jared's not old enough to drive yet." His father nods and that's that. If Jared makes the team, they'll be at every meet and he'll have a ride to and from every practice; that's how his parents are.  
  
He finishes his homework in his room and showers, still trying to get the smell of chlorine out of his hair. Once he's shampooed away as much of it as he thinks he can get, he just stands under the water and lets it run down his body. There's only one thought in his mind right now, and it's that cocky sophomore and his mouth. Jared takes the bar of soap and rubs it over his abs and down around his dick. He lathers up his hand and starts stroking, using the spatter of the water on his body as cover for his heavier breathing, his quickening pulls.   
  
He half-closes his eyes and he can see Jensen -- his freckles, his chin, his lips. The muscles in his ass tighten and he comes, white globs sliding down the fiberglass wall of the shower. It's not the first time he's jacked off thinking of a boy, and it won't be the last, but it's the first time he hasn't felt *wrong* for doing it. Nevermind what he feels when Jensen's lips are sliding over his cock; right now, in this minute, he feels no shame.   
  
Until his momma starts banging on the door. "Jared! You been in there long enough!"  
  
Shit. "Sorry momma; I'm coming out." He shuts off the water so he doesn't need to shout anymore. "Guess I didn't expect to be so sore tonight." It's a believable lie, but his momma's not slow, and he hopes she doesn't pry.  
  
There's a pause, and then, "well, okay, but next time you want a long shower you do it at school where we're not paying for it."  
  
"You got it, momma."   
  
"Your father and I are headed to bed; is your homework done?"  
  
"Yes, momma. I finished before I showered."  
  
"Goodnight, Jared."  
  
"Goodnight, momma."   
  
She walks away, and Jared's shoulders fall. He hadn't realized he was holding them up, but he releases them and the tension floods out of his body. He really is tired; laps in the pool aren't the cakewalk he'd expected, and nobody should be forced to do algebra problems after that. In the meantime, though, he's got to clean up the shower.  
  
That night he dreams of nothing in particular, and he wakes up with only a little stiffness in his shoulders and thighs. He stretches them, then gets dressed, snags breakfast on his way out the door, and picks up the bus at the bottom of his street. Algebra, biology, "world cultures", which is mostly a chance to pass notes and sleep during filmstrips.   
  
Lunch, and more gossip from Tricia. "So Marcy was totally out in left field and that Jensen cheerleader guy? Is totally dating Robin the goalie from the soccer team. I don't get it -- she's totally *below* him, you know?" She slings her backpack to her other shoulder. "I mean, he's cute and bases great -- I asked Claire myself -- and he dates *her*? God, what a loser. I heard she's a dyke, though. Maybe he gets off on her and some other girl." Jared doesn't hear the rest of Tricia's screed; she's got him thinking about Jensen again. They ditch their trays and head outside for some sun before the bell rings.  
  
Spanish I. In Spanish, "Jared" sounds too much like "Laredo", so he's "Paco". He and Bobby Austin and Tyler Clark roll their eyes and repeat verb conjugations. The teacher, Miz Rodriguez, doesn't seem to care any more than they do. Who'd want to explain counting to a fifteen-year-old? Bobby and Tyler had some French in middle school, so they try to pass offensive notes as blatantly as possible, hoping one will get confiscated and they'll get to lie to Rodriguez about what it says. Jared thinks it's a lame way to pass the time, but doesn't say anything.   
  
Jared only thinks of Jensen thirteen times between waking up and the long trek from Spanish to the locker rooms, and four of those were Tricia's fault. He's on the pool deck five minutes after the bell, stopping in Coach Harris's office to work out some kind of program. Coach, as he insists on being called, is enthusiastic to the point of mania, and Jared finds himself daunted and simultaneously psyched. Turns out he's got a better chance than he'd expected; since last year the varsity team was seniors-only and the prestiege of JV swimming is next to nothing, not many people bothered to keep in swimming shape between last year's tryouts and this year's. Together they outline a plan and Jared slips into the water, actually looking forward to his half-hour of laps.  
  
Halfway through he's clinging to the wall at the deep end and he hears someone enter the pool area from the other side. Holding on with one arm, he spins around and sees Jensen standing there, hands in his pockets and looking right at him. Jared's heart leaps and he kicks hard off the wall, long arms out and windmilling freestyle. He makes it to the other side of the pool, slicks his hair back, wipes off his face, and looks up. Jensen's holding a stopwatch.   
  
"Not bad, pond scum. You might do us proud come tryouts."  
  
Jared's breathing heavy, but he comes right back with, "Us? Who's 'us'?"  
  
Jensen's grin is dazzling. "I'm managing the swim team this year, soon as fall cheerleading season is over." His voice drops in pitch and in volume and he half-growls, "bet I can get you... *motivated*." Jared's lucky he's at the shallow end of the pool, because the blood pumping through him makes a beeline for his dick and he'd have lost his grip on the side. His voice lightens considerably and he turns on that cheeky grin. "Now, you got more work to do, pond scum. Show me your backstroke."  
  
Jared splashes at him and kicks off.


	4. Chapter 4

_highschoolery_ , a jsquared high school au, part 4

Jared finishes the rest of his laps and endures an unintelligible *something* about "literature and the human condition" from his English teacher, then heads for his locker. He'd been a little unhappy to find that while Jensen would walk the length of the pool and time him, he hadn't made good on his promise from earlier, not even when Jared spent an extra five minutes in the showers waiting for him. After he stuffs his bag with the usual suspects ("know the capital of Cameroon tomorrow!" -- like he's ever going to go there, much less anywhere outside Texas), he hefts it to his shoulder and makes his way to loserville, also known as the bus lot.  
  
This early in the school year, the mix of freshmen and sophomores is pretty even, but the only juniors and seniors who ride the bus are those who can't afford cars and don't have any friends to carpool with. Hence, loserville. Jared reaches the lot and boards the bus, slinging himself into a seat and opening the window. The ride is boring, stretches of the suburban edges of the city fly by, broken only by the occasional 8-story office building. When you live in Texas, there's no need to go *up* -- now when there's space to build *out* -- so short of some skyscrapers in the city proper not much goes up very high, especially not in his neighborhood.  
  
He's dropped off at the bottom of his street, a cul-de-sac just inside the city border, and he walks the quarter-mile to the house, wrinkling his brow at the gorgeous black car in his driveway. It's clearly an American model, from the late '60s or early '70s, probably a Chevy. When he gets closer, he can see it's an Impala in fantastic condition, but he still doesn't know who it belongs to.   
  
The garage is open, so his momma, at least, is home. He passes by her station wagon and steps into the kitchen, dropping his backpack on the bench by the door. "Momma!"  
  
"In here, Jared," she calls from the other end of the house. "You got company."  
  
Now even more curious, he kicks off his shoes and fairly bounds through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the living room. And stops dead. Sitting on the couch, across the coffee table from his momma, is Jensen, in jeans and a varsity jacket from his old school, "Ackles" embroidered in silver across the green fabric. "Hi."  
  
"Didn't realize you were making housecalls."  
  
"Jared!" His momma sounds shocked, but not as shocked as she'd be if she knew what he really meant.  
  
"Sorry, momma."  
  
"No, it's okay -- we only met the other day. And I guess he's been underestimating how excited Coach Harris is about him." His smile was more wholesome here, in Jared's living room, but in Jared's head it was still the smirk he'd worn telling Jared to swim the backstroke, or just before Jensen's face met his dick the first time. Jared shifted uneasily.  
  
"Well, Jared? Come on, sit down and we'll all talk a little. Jensen tells me he transferred from just outside of Dallas and doesn't know anybody; I'm sure you wouldn't mind making a new friend." Her voice has just a hint of the steel she uses to get her way; she's trying to guilt him into befriending poor, defenseless Jensen. Inside, Jared rolls his eyes.   
  
"Of course, momma." Since she's in the armchair, he snags the other end of the couch and turns toward Jensen. "Where'd you get that car?"   
  
Jensen beams. "You like it? She's a '67 Impala; my dad and I tinker with her on weekends." He talks some more about the car, about having to repeat sophomore year because of school district misalignment (which Jared thinks completely blows, but Jensen shrugs it off with a look in his direction that just might have something to do with word choice), about swimming. Jared talks about the car, swimming, and the uselessness of knowing the capital of Cameroon. His momma has long since left the two of them alone, but she's still in the house, so Jared can't ask what he wants.  
  
"Could I get a look at her up close?" Jared's not sure how Jensen will react to that, since he means it in about four different ways, but he does mean them all, so even if he only gets one or two, that'll do.  
  
Jensen stands with an easy "sure" and heads back to the front door.   
  
"Momma! Jensen's gonna let me look at his car; we'll just be outside!"  
  
She appears at the top of the stairs. "Alright. It was nice to meet you, Jensen."  
  
"And you too, ma'am."   
  
Jared opens the door and they head outside. When he closes it behind them, he looks at Jensen and says "What was *that* about?"  
  
"What was what about?"  
  
"You at my *house*."  
  
"Scared you, huh?" The smirk is back. "I'm serious, though -- coach thinks you'll go far, and we want to have your parents on board as well."  
  
"You're not going to visit the other parents." It's not a question since Jared already knows the answer.  
  
Jensen snorts. "Course not. But man, you should've seen your *face* when you walked in. I'm talking comedy gold, there." He sticks his hands out, his thumb and forefinger at right angles like he's envisioning a TV screen, and chuckles. He slaps Jared on the back. "Let's go take a look at my baby, huh?" She's everything Jared thought she'd be -- sleek, dangerous, and --   
  
"Her back seat is *huge*."  
  
"You saying my woman has a fat ass, Padalecki? Cause I will smack you so hard..."  
  
"You know what I meant!" Jared grits out.  
  
"It's more fun to mess with you, though." Jensen opens the rear door and Jared sticks his head in.  
  
"The leather can't be original; it'd be way faded by now." He's just talking to himself now, admiring the car, so it's that much more of a surprise when Jensen shoves him onto the seat. "What the hell?"  
  
Jensen's suddenly in the car too, arms on the seat on either side of Jared, hovering over him. His voice is low. "Yeah, you like my big back seat? Bet you can't imagine what I use it for." He's right next to Jared, his eyes piercing. Jared looks back just as fiercely.  
  
"Bet you I can."   
  
"Guess." His breath is hot on Jared's cheeks, even in the stifling heat of midafternoon and the back seat of a black car. Which is why, partially to prove a point and partially because he just wants to, Jared leans up and kisses him. As first kisses go, it kind of sucks.  
  
Jensen breaks it and looks down at him. "You got no idea, pond scum. None."  
  
"Stop *calling* me that."  
  
"I'll show you." He leans forward until his mouth is right next to Jared's ear. "Some other time," he whispers, and then he's out of the car and pulling Jared out with him. Jared bumps his head on the frame.   
  
"Ow! Hey, let go!" Jensen does and Jared's hand goes to his forehead, massaging it and trying to stop a bruise from forming. "Idiot. Jeeze."  
  
"If you weren't so freakin' tall!"  
  
"If you hadn't tried to..." he trails off. "Yeah, whatever."  
  
"Alright pond scum, get back in and do your homework."  
  
"Yeah, you're not the boss of me!"  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. "No, but your momma's gonna make you, so you might as well do it anyway. I gotta go."  
  
"Sure you do."   
  
"No, I do. I'm blocking your daddy." And sure enough, Jared's father's pickup is in the end of the driveway.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5:

There's a somewhat uncomfortable silence that night at the dinner table, and it all comes from his father. Jared knows exactly why, but he's not sure how to bring up the issue, nor is he sure what lie to tell. _I was just looking at his car_ he thinks to himself fiercely, just in case his father has developed telepathy in the last day or so.  
  
"May I be excused?" Jared's cleared his plate and he wants to get away from the table and the silence, maybe escape to his room where he can glare at a map of Africa until he knows the order of vowels in "Yaoundé".   
  
"Oh, weren't you going to tell your father about the guy from school?" His momma's trying to make conversation and maybe get his father more on board with the swim team, and Jared knows that, but it's hard to deal with all the same.   
  
"Maybe later? I still have to do that..."  
  
"What guy from school?" His father sits forward and rests his forearms on the table, looking at Jared intently.   
  
"This guy Jensen, he's..." Jared looked at his plate.   
  
"He's from the swim team. The manager, he said, right Jared?" Bless his momma, but he really didn't want to talk about this right now. "Such a nice boy. He's apparently new to the area, too." She gets up and starts clearing dishes.  
  
"Yeah. He came by and we all talked for a bit -- he said some stuff to Mom about the team, and, uh. He's a transfer."   
  
"Where from?" There's an edge to his father's voice that he's not sure he's ever heard before, but he can't place it.   
  
"Richardson. Up north of Dallas. They're making him repeat sophomore year because their system and ours don't line up, which is the biggest bunch of..." He catches himself. "Uh. It's not fair, but that's what's happening. So he's managing the team so he gets to know some people out here. And he drives a sweet car."  
  
"I saw it; an Impala, right? Jet black. Nice looking." Here's his opening.  
  
"Yeah, he even showed me where he and his dad restored the interior -- all the leather and floor carpeting and everything."   
  
"Did he. Well, that was nice of him. You said he did it with his dad? What does he do?" Crisis averted.  
  
"I, uh. I don't know. I only met him the other day."  
  
"I see. So he wanted our support for the team?" He raises his head to face Jared's momma and says "I hope you told him we'd be very supportive if Jared makes it."  
  
"Of course I did," she answers from the counter near the sink. "Now did you two want any pie, or should I put it away for later?"  
  
Two hours and three pieces of pie later ("Where *do* you put it, Jared?" his momma had asked, as his father chuckled), his homework done and his teeth brushed, Jared snags the computer and spends an hour or two chatting with friends, trying to figure out what he's doing tomorrow night. Fridays don't come nearly often enough. Rick Taylor and Bobby Beaumont and Joe Wade are all going over Eric Colson's, but only because Eric was held back in Kindergarten and got his license two weeks ago. Still, it's better than nothing -- he IMs Eric to find out where they're planning to go. Some shitty movie is opening, nothing Jared's ever heard of, but it's supposed to be full of guns and explosions and scantily-clad women, so he's sure to like it. Right.  
  
The next day, there are fliers plastered all over the school, and Eric shoves one at him between Bio and World Cultures with a curt "change of plans, Jare" as he dashes down the hall toward his pre-Algebra class. Jared looks at the flier in his hand. _Carlson and Kane, one night only_ blah blah blah some band he's never heard of. The guy in the picture looks kind of familiar, though, so he reads a little closer. Chris Kane is a senior, so he's probably only ever seen him from a ways off, but it's kind of exciting that he'd get to play at the Winchester, even if it is on all-ages night.   
  
World Cultures involves the world's longest lecture on spelling ("'Yaoundé' is just like 'you' with an 'a' -- imagine 'you' with an 'A' in this class...") and two dozen mostly-asleep teenagers. By the time Jared heads for the cafeteria, he's about ready to curl up with his backpack for a pillow and ignore the rest of the day.  
  
Tricia opens her mouth as soon as he's within three yards of the table and doesn't stop talking until they throw away their trash and Jared heads off to Spanish. She's, to put it mildly, ga-ga over this Chris guy, and he's apparently friends with Dave the quarterback, so that means he's on the short list of Who To Know. Jared can almost see the drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as she contemplates the jet-set of high school life. As far as Big Man on Campus goes, it's totally Dave, but Chris is as close as Tricia can dream to a crown, since Dave's spoken for and Chris, to her knowledge, isn't. Jared files all this under "useful information" and mulls it on the way to Spanish.   
  
When he gets to leave non-native-speaker hell, Jared hasn't learned anything new about the Spanish language, other than how annoying it can be when butchered in Elliot Reed's strident voice. Between the foreign language wing and the pool it's like an obstacle course -- dodging elbows, backpacks, shorter students, whatever -- and Jared is grateful for the moment when he can slip into the pool and thrash some water.  
  
He's through the locker room in what may well be record time, barely under the shower long enough to dampen himself, and nearly *in* the pool when he realizes it's occupied. Floating lane markers have been stretched the length of the pool and in the six divided areas goggled boys are swimming the butterfly like there's no tomorrow.  
  
Jensen comes up to him, clipboard in hand. "You didn't think you were the only one who was gonna practice, did you?" His grin completely disarms Jared. Actually, he *had* thought he'd be the only one, at least for a while. Weren't some of these guys on the soccer team or something? "Yeah, so you're in lane 4 with Aaron whatshisface, uh, Cutter. Soon's he finishes a lap, you take off. You know how to 'fly, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I know butterfly," he snaps. "Couldn't you have told me about this, like maybe yesterday? When you *came* to my *house*?"  
  
Jensen folds his arms across his chest, clipboard under one arm, and Jared notices the whistle lanyard around his neck. "Well, you know now. Get in the pool." Even though Jensen has to look up at Jared, Jared still feels about three inches high as he turns around.  
  
"Fine, whatever," he says over his shoulder, pulling his goggles into place and jumping in the shallow end of lane 4.  
  
Jensen makes him stay to finish the laps the others did in the few minutes of the period Jared missed, so it's easy for Jensen to catch him on the way from the pool to the showers. "Hey, meet me in the Junior lot after last period and I'll give you a ride home."  
  
"Why, so you can goody-two-shoes my mom again?"   
  
"No, doofus, because riding the bus sucks, I live two streets over, and..." he trails off, then gets a very naughty gleam in his eye. "I figure you know the last reason," he says, with that curling of his mouth that brought out the best in Jared before.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6:

It takes monumental self-control for Jared to simply say "sure" and walk back to the showers -- he does, after all, have to get through English before he's allowed to leave for the day -- but midway between the pool and Gadsen's classroom his face breaks into a grin and he's doing internal cartwheels. Even the old guy's wheezing about novel architecture can't dim his smile, and it takes Erin Ralston's smack to his arm before he realizes it's the end of the period. "Geez, Jared, you on something? Why would you be grinning all through *that* class?" she says, once they're out in the hall. Jared makes up some excuse about how it's last period and heads for his locker.  
  
He twirls the combination and there's a sliver of paper on his Algebra book - _change of plans; meet me at the pool_. Right on cue, Jared's hormones kick into overdrive and he hears his pulse in his ears. He's going to have serious issues if he makes the team; it seems like every time he steps onto the pool deck he gets hard.   
  
Jensen surprises Jared by meeting him outside the locker room. "Waiting on one more," Jensen says, and wow does the blood shoot right to Jared's dick. When the guy they're waiting on shows up, it's --  
  
"Tommy!"   
  
"Jare, what's up?"  
  
Tom Welling is a sophomore, the son of Jared's father's former business partner, and one of the few guys Jared knows who comes even close to his height. He's also the first boy Jared ever jerked off thinking about, so this is a little awkward. When the Wellings moved to Austin, Jared's father dissolved the partnership and there was a lot of bad blood there. "Not much, not much. Got roped into swim practice -- this nut thinks I can make the team. What about you? I didn't know you were back from Austin..." Tom's face darkens and Jared's foot is firmly wedged between his teeth.  
  
"Yeah, uh." Tom scratches his head. "Mom and Dad... they got divorced, Jare. Like a year ago. It's finally over, and Mom said she wanted to move back where her friends were, so here we are!" and he gives this little mock-smile that shows Jared just how crappy the situation really is.   
  
"Dude, that sucks. Sorry, I wouldn't have mentioned it, but..."  
  
"Nah, I'd have wondered, too."   
  
"Quite a touching reunion, boys; we leaving anytime soon, or do you want me to call out for a pizza and a couple pitchers?" Jensen's laying on the sarcasm with a backhoe.  
  
"Oh, Jenny, *would* you? That would be *fabulous*; we're just *dying* of hunger over here." And Jared's proud of his old friend -- Tom gives as good as he gets.   
  
"So where do *you* know Jensen from? He's stalking me, I think -- took up managing the swim team right after Harris started me training." Jared tries to keep his tone light, but something's nagging at his brain, something that has to do with Tom and Jensen, and he can't quite place it. When Tom's answer is a really *deep* blush, Jared's even more interested.  
  
"We, uh, we met a couple weeks ago. Cheerleading and football tryouts happen right next to one another; I though he was a little scrawny for a defensive end." He smiles, Jensen laughs, and the two of them turn to head down toward the parking lot. Jared knows there's something more there, but doesn't want to push it.  
  
Jensen's car is hot; Jared feels like he's going to melt onto the leather. Jensen seems like he's not affected by it; he's barely sweating as he rolls down the windows and cranks up the radio -- no, not the radio. He's got a tape in the deck and it's playing something Jared doesn't recognize, all metal guitar and drums and shouting. As they hit the road and the hot September air blows through the car, Jared cools off just a bit, but he's still anxious about what Jensen has planned -- the guy isn't exactly a saint, he knows, and the situation he's in right now...  
  
He's more than a little relieved when Jensen turns into a cul-de-sac and drops Tom off in front of a small brick rancher and motions for Jared to take the front seat. When he does, Jensen looks over at him, car still idling around them, and reaches his hand out to Jared's crotch. He grabs the front of Jared's jeans in his hand and gives a little squeeze; Jared's hips buck a little, involuntarily. "The hell are you doing?"  
  
The smirk is back in full force. "What I should've done yesterday." Jensen grabs the stick shift, strokes it up and down before shifting, and heads back down toward the main road. Jared's pulse isn't just in his ears now, it's in his dick and his thighs, burning now from within rather than just from the heat of the black leather. He's being teased, he knows that much, but even Jensen's teasing feels like an orgasm.  
  
Jared almost shouts when Jensen passes his street, but Jensen's already shot him a warning look, so he stays quiet. They drive another three, four streets and turn into a rather more upscale development. Jensen pulls his Impala into the driveway of a two-story brick colonial that's got to be as big as twice or three times Tom's house, sets the brake, leans over, and devours Jared's mouth.  
  
There's not enough breath for Jared to draw in before it happens, and he's somewhere on the edge of hysteria, but after about five seconds of confusion and panic his dick takes over and he's leaning back into what is more like a mouth-battle for its intensity. Jensen's tongue slides across the roof of his mouth and he lets out a little "unh" at it -- he's kissed girls before (well, one or two), but never like this, with someone who'd fight back.  
  
Jensen breaks the kiss to breathe "back seat, now" into Jared's ear and in what is probably a feat of superhuman gymnastics, Jared's 6'5" frame is over the front passenger seat and unfolding on the back bench, his legs bunched near the driver's side door and his head propped up against the armrest on the passenger side door. Jensen slides between the seats and ends up on top of Jared, attached at the mouth again, with his hands speedily working at Jared's buckle and jeans. Once they're open, he wastes no time in shoving his hand down in Jared's boxers and wrapping it around Jared's dick.   
  
Before Jared knows it, he's managed to pull his own shirt up to his armpits and Jensen breaks the kiss to lick down Jared's chest, pausing to flick his tongue at Jared's nipples. His hand keeps working, alternately stroking and clamping down on Jared's dick, keeping him in an even more hormone-crazed state than he usually is, and when Jensen's mouth reaches Jared's dick and licks it base to tip Jared draws a hissy breath and shoots all over his abs and chest. "Oh, *shit*," he groans, knowing what a bitch it is to clean come off his body, and how he'll be expected at home any minute now.  
  
"That good, huh?"   
  
"My momma..."  
  
"Won't mind if I bring you by, now that we've met. 'sides, you can't go home looking like *this*, can you?" Jensen's smirk ought to be *patented* by now. "You need to get," and here he pauses and lowers his face to Jared's crotch, "cleaned up." He squeezes Jared's cock and the last couple dribbles of come seep out the top. Jensen's tongue slips out and swipes them up, the broad flat of it running over the head of Jared's cock. Jared, looking down at him, groans and nearly melts over the seat.  
  
Jensen's tongue makes quick work of the puddles on Jared's abs, eyes locked with Jared's the whole time, and it's the filthiest and hottest thing Jared's ever seen.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7:

Jensen drops Jared off at home about ten minutes before the bus would have, and Jared gives a huge sigh of relief when he sees his parents aren't home yet. He tosses his backpack on the bench inside the door from the garage and kicks off his sneakers before picking up the phone and calling over Eric's. Eric will pick him up at nine, so he's got plenty of time for TV, dinner, and, since his momma *is* a teacher, homework. Her point about getting it all out of the way Friday so you have Sunday free for church and friends makes sense, but he still doesn't *like* doing his homework on Friday afternoon, and it's kind of hard to concentrate with post-orgasmic bliss still fogging his brain.  
  
He plops himself down on the couch and just lays there for a few minutes, trying to process everything that's happened in the past five days, from seeing Jensen blowing some guy behind the bleachers up to being on the receiving end of... of whatever just happened in Jensen's driveway. Something still nags at him, though -- and then it clicks. The guy he saw Jensen blowing behind the bleachers on Monday? Tommy Welling. There's absolutely no way that should be true, but it's there in his mind, clear as anything can be in this hormone cloud: tall, dark haired guy, huge biceps... he tries to rebel against it, but it forces itself to the front of his mind.   
  
By the time nine PM rolls around, Jared's angsted himself out. He spent most of the way through his homework trying to convince himself that he imagined it, or that Jensen broke it off with Tom when Jared showed up, or that he's special and worth giving up a life of blowjobs for, but in the end he doesn't have reason to believe any of these rationalizations. Jensen uses him for sex. Why wouldn't he use Tom, or that bald guy? When Eric calls to say he'd on his way over, Jared just feels relieved. He pulls on his boots and pulls on a slightly nicer shirt than he'd wear to school. He's going to see Chris's band play, but there's no reason he can't pick up someone there, right? Right.  
  
He tells his momma about the return of the Wellings, but doesn't mention it to his father, and since his momma doesn't say anything to him either, Jared's pretty sure he made the right decision. She says that if Jared sees him again he should get their home phone number so Jared's momma can get together with Tommy's mom and help her get settled back into life around here. Jared's not sure he wants there to be closer ties with the Wellings, after what his brain has been speculating, but he knew his momma would find out sooner or later, and it's really the right thing to do -- it sucks what they went through and he doesn't want to be the cause of more trouble for them. Except Tom. He definitely wants to cause trouble for Tom. With that thought firmly in mind he hops up into Eric's Explorer and they're off to the Winchester.   
  
There's some light banter on the ride over, but the night really gets interesting when they get inside the club. Jared may be nearly six and a half feet tall, but he's still a little babyfaced; while he might pass for eighteen, he'll never pass for 21. He gets his hand stamped and waits while Eric, Rick, Bobby, and Joe try their luck with their fake IDs. Joe passes, but Bobby's is an obvious fake and Joe gets called back with the rest of the group. They all get stamped and enter, dispersing with an agreement to meet up after the show.   
  
Jared heads for the stage, scoping out the best place to hear from, when he recognizes the guy wiring together all the speakers, amps, and microphone cords. "Chad?"  
  
He looks up. "Hey, Jared. Didn't know you'd be here tonight." Chad's kind of a geek, but usually in a useful way. Like knowing how to wire things for sound. Or being the first in the school to hack the computer with grades for the entire student body. Jared knows him from Algebra and because they went to middle school together; Chad always sat at the front during assembly because he was the only one who could fix the mic if it went haywire in the middle of announcements.  
  
"Same to you -- how did you get roped into this?"  
  
"Family: Steve's dating my sister and she mentioned that I could do 'that tech shit.' At least they're paying me to be here, which is pretty awesome. And the band doesn't suck, unlike most of the shows I do this for." He hefts a coil of microphone wiring in each hand and steps around the sound board toward the stage.  
  
"Well, uh, good luck with whatever it is you do back there." Jared's sheepishly unaware of exactly how all the wiring and mixing happens.  
  
"Thanks, man," and Chad busies himself with the things he needs to get done in the next fifteen minutes, including sound check.   
  
Jared turns from the stage setup and makes his way over to the pool tables, where a small crowd has gathered around the table in the far corner. When he's closer, Jared can see one guy bent bodily over the table, his cue at a ridiculous angle. The cue moves precisely, like a piston, and a couple of guys around the table guffaw and clap. "You're screwed, Jenny boy!" he hears, and looks to the guy with the other pool cue. It's Jensen, and his face is just as stony as when he brushed off Jared in the hallway on Wednesday, but his eyes dance across the table.   
  
There's a moment where Jared feels like cheering for Jensen, but he squashes that as soon as it comes up -- blowjobs aside, he's... but is there really a way to put blowjobs aside? Jared thinks that it *has* to mean something. So when Jensen sinks the 12-ball in the side pocket, Jared lets his voice join the chorus of "yeah!" and Jensen's head whips around, looking for him. Their eyes lock for a second, but then he looks back down at the table. When his head comes up again, he's wearing a dazzling grin. Jared grins back, even though Jensen's not looking.  
  
Jensen's opponent sizes things up and makes a beautiful banked shot, sinking the 6-ball in the corner pocket right by Jensen's thigh. He makes an outsized wink at Jensen and for the first time Jared takes a close look at the guy -- a good five inches or so shorter than Jared, he's also shaved completely bald.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8:

Jared recognizes the bald guy instantly -- he doesn't know his name, but he knows it's the same guy Jensen had behind the bleachers on Tuesday. He's just standing there next to the pool table, cue clutched in one hand, cigarette in the other. The last time Jared saw him he wore sunglasses, but now his face is bare, twisted into what Jared can only think of as a leer, a leer directed right at Jensen, who is studying the table with a scowl on his face. The guy turns away from the table and says something Jared can't hear and a few seconds later his side of the crowd laughs. Jensen's eyes flick up at him, but quickly return to the game and moments later he's lining up his shot, a hook around the 8-ball to hit the 13.   
  
The gathered crowd holds its collective breath, but at precisely the wrong moment, the bald guy says, in a loud voice, "Think you're gonna make that, Jenny boy?" and the tip of Jensen's cue goes sideways. He knocks the 13 into the 8 and sends the 8 spinning lazily into the side pocket.  
  
"Fucker." Jensen's glaring at the bald guy like he wants to haul off and slug him; they're about the same size, but Jared's not sure which of them would win, in a fair fight. Jared can be pretty sure the bald guy wouldn't play fair. "What'd you have to do that for, Mikey? Can't win fair and square?"  
  
"Aww, somebody's not happy," Mikey says. He curls his lower lip down in an outrageous pout and slides his index finger down his face as if to say "go ahead and cry about it." He hefts his pool cue and says haughtily "But it looks like I won, so I'll be taking the next challenger." He breaks out into a wicked grin. "Unless you want to go double or quits." The cigarette in his hand comes to his mouth and he takes a long drag.  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. "Knowing you cheated on this one? Yeah, right. Find some other sucker." He sits the cue on the table and pushes back into the crowd.   
  
"Somebody make another mark in my win column," Mikey says, and chalks the cue for the next challenger.  
  
"Boy, you playin' pool again?" The voice is a little deeper than Mikey's and has a *much* more pronounced drawl. Oklahoma, maybe? Jared can't place it exactly. The voice's owner strolls into view from the stage area where Jared had left Chad, and it's Chris Kane in all his glory. "You know I warned you off that shit."  
  
"Hey Momma Chris. Who're you looking out for this time?" Mike flicks ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and looks lazily over at Chris, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.   
  
"Anybody damn fool enough to play pool against you, cheater." Chris is in a sleeveless tee and faded jeans, some turquoise folded into his belt buckle and a bracelet on his wrist. He's wearing a silver cowboy hat over hair that brushes his shoulders; the hat is awfully shiny and when Jared takes a look at it he sees it's covered in duct tape. Chris's smile is a little yellowed and Jared's pretty sure he dips, but it's a ray of sunshine anyway.   
  
Mikey takes another drag. "Tell that to that poor Ackles boy whose ass I just whupped," he crows, and Chris laughs.   
  
"Jenny boy, where'd you run off to?" he shouts, grinning ear to ear.  
  
"Told you not to call me that!" drifts over from behind the crowd and instinctively people press aside to leave an aisle between Chris and Jensen.  
  
"You can tell me all you want when you can kick my ass. Till then you respect your elders, boy."   
  
Jensen crosses his arms over his chest, tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrow. "Why don't you shut up and play some goddamn music, huh? That's what everybody's here for."  
  
"Aww, wanna whine a little more? Poor little Jenny got his ass handed to him at pool."  
  
"By a cheat. You know it doesn't count."  
  
"What counts is who won, and it wasn't you. Now get your ass over to the other side of the room, 'cause we're gonna play in a couple minutes." He looks around at the crowd. "That goes for all y'all," he says in a louder voice just before he turns himself around and heads for the stage.   
  
There's a wave of people who seem to flow around Jensen toward the stage area, but Jensen doesn't move. Jared watches him stick his hands in his pockets and walk slowly over to the pool table where Mikey is still leaning, one hand on his cue and the other holding his rapidly-dwindling cigarette.  
  
"Not gonna watch the show?" Mikey asks, smirking.  
  
Jensen laughs, not a full one, but a couple of short sharp barks. "Seen it. That lame-ass cousin of mine writes new material once every year or two; I saw him do this set in Dallas two months ago." Then his voice lowers to a point where Jared can't make out what he's saying, but Mikey seems to be nodding along and responding in kind. He's even more curious when Tom comes out of the men's room and makes a beeline for the pair, standing just to Mikey's side. He enters the conversation but doesn't say much. Mikey sees Jared standing there, turns to Jensen and says something. Jensen looks up and catches Jared's eye before grinning and motioning for him to join the trio at the table. "Didn't expect to see you here."  
  
"I was gonna say the same thing -- you didn't mention it earlier." Jared punctuates the last word of the sentence with a little sideways tilt of his head that means he knows that Jensen knows what he's talking about, but Jensen doesn't have to say anything, especially not with the other guys here. It occurs to Jared after he does this that it may have been completely unnecessary, given the position he's seen Jensen in with the other two guys. Still, "Isn't it great what we all have in common?" doesn't seem like the best way to continue this conversation. Jared settles on, "But there were fliers everywhere, so maybe you just thought I already knew about it."  
  
There's a pause and then Jensen speaks. Jared expects him to say, "What, like I'd have invited you if I didn't think you knew?" but that's not what comes out of his mouth. Instead, it's "Maybe." He looks over at Tom and Mikey; Mikey gives Jared a once-over and an almost imperceptable nod. Jensen seems to make up his mind. "Come on, pond scum, let's go watch the show."


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9:

The show is actually pretty good. Jared can't carry a tune in a bucket, but he knows what he likes and he likes this. Steve appears to actually be welded to his guitar -- it doesn't ever leave his hands -- but Chris is a jack of all trades in the music department, playing guitar, singing, attempting something complicated on the bass that doesn't quite work, hitting the drums with a stick... he seems to do (or at least try) it all. There's a break between sets, but Jared's not going anywhere -- he's standing next to Jensen and feels... well, "comfortable" isn't the word, but "less awkward" might do the trick. Jensen hums a little under his breath and just seems super-relaxed, which is probably helping Jared. Mikey, on Jensen's other side, seems bored but watches anyway, though Jared notices Mikey looking across at him every once in a while. Tom's blissfully ignorant of the whole thing, just staring at the stage and moving his lips to the songs he knows.  
  
Midway through the second set, Chris searches the crowd until his eyes come to rest on Jensen, who immediately starts shaking his head. Jared turns to look at him, and when he turns back to the stage, Chris's mouth is set back in that sunbeam grin and Mikey's got Jensen under one arm, Tom the other, and they're literally dragging him forward to the stage. Chris's hand comes down, Jensen takes it, and Chris hauls him up. "Now my buddy Jenny boy here," he starts.  
  
"Told you not to call me that!"  
  
"Jenny boy used to sing with me back when his parents lived up in Richardson and I was stuck in Norman. When I moved down here with Dave's folks that was the end of that. And then what do you know -- he shows up in my backyard. Don't disappoint the crowd now, Jenny boy; show 'em your sweet sweet voice." Chris chuckles.  
  
Just by looking at him, Jared can tell Jensen's already mentally nailed Chris to the wall, but he's up in front of some hundred and fifty people and Jared's pretty sure he's not the kind of guy to ruin a performance. When he speaks, his tone is light but sarcastic. "Right on, Chrissy-boo. What've you got in mind?"  
  
Chris and Steve play and Jensen sings high harmony on three or four songs before Chris steps away from the mic leaving him there all by himself. His voice drops an octave, away from the high thirds he'd been singing over Chris, and he pulls, seemingly out of nowhere, a credible country baritone. It's much closer to his speaking voice, and definitely rougher than his sweet high notes (Chris hadn't been kidding). He sings and mostly pulls it off, though he forgets a few of the lyrics. The three of them finish off the show with a couple covers and there's several rounds of applause.   
  
Mikey turns to Jared and says "so are you two going home or what?" in his bored, offhand way, but Jared's floored.   
  
"Are we what?"  
  
"I'll take that as a no, then."  
  
"Yeah, I got a ride here with some friends, and I gotta meet them to head back."  
  
"Sure you do," Mikey says, but it sounds like a taunt.  
  
"What, I do!" Jared tries to figure out what Mikey's implying, but all roads lead to Jensen, and he's currently mobbed by the suburban slut contingent: caked-on makeup, boobs spilling out of their tube tops, and skirts short enough to reveal thong straps on top and acres of thigh on the bottom. Even at 6'5", Jared doesn't stand a chance against them.   
  
Eric taps him on the shoulder. "Bobby's taking a piss, then we're gonna go -- see you out front in five, okay?"  
  
Jared nods and says, "sure," but he isn't, not really. What he wants to do is wade into the sea of girls surrounding Jensen, drag him out by his collar, and ask him what the hell is going on. Since that looks less-than-possible, he's trying to come up with plan B.  
  
Mikey's talking with Tom, but they're still standing near Jared, so he leans over and just asks. "So, uh. What you said before..."  
  
"Hey, don't worry about it. If that's not your thing, that's cool."  
  
"No! I mean. When you asked if we were going home, what did you mean?"  
  
Tom laughs and Jared figures that's not a good sign. Mikey rolls his eyes heavenward and just says, "you know he's sweet on you, right?"  
  
"Me? Yeah, right -- come on, he calls me 'pond scum.' Real sweet." But he's conflicted. He *wants* there to be more there, and that kind of scares him.  
  
"Fine, fine, don't believe me. He just told me to tell you," and here Mikey leans forward until his mouth is right at Jared's ear. "He loves your dick."  
  
Jared flushes head to toe and dashes out of the club. He sees Eric and the rest of the guys and knows he's the last one. "Saw you hanging out with Mikey Rosenbaum -- heard he's a big art fag." Eric's never been one to mince words.  
  
"Nah, I was hanging with Tommy Welling -- his dad and mine worked together for a long time." Jared stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries to will the embarrassment away from his face as the five of them head for Eric's SUV.  
  
When they're almost there, he hears "Jare!" from across the parking lot. He knows exactly who it is and refuses to turn around.   
  
"Sounds like that Jenny guy calling you, Jare." Bobby turns around to try and see who it is, but the parking lot isn't well-lit and the shadows make monsters on the cars around them.  
  
"Yeah, he's a prick."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"He's the new swim team manager and he thinks he's God or something -- I swear he's pushing me more than the rest of the guys."  
  
"Maybe he thinks you can do it."  
  
Jared pulls at the rear driver side door and climbs into the Explorer, seating himself and turning to look at Joe. "You serious? I never swam competitively in my life and now he thinks I'm the great white hope?"  
  
"A great white shark, maybe," Joe cracks, and raises his arm to ward off Jared's fist, which is rapidly approaching.  
  
"Yeah, whatever, soccer boy. Least I'm not baking on the field." Eric pulls out of the parking lot.


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10:

Jensen is waiting at Jared's house. His car is parked on the street when Eric pulls up, but Jensen himself is nowhere to be seen. Eric and Joe, the two left in the Explorer, say "nice car" pretty much simultaneously and Jared feels some kind of weird pride at that, though he's not sure why. He's also wary about the fact that he hasn't seen Jensen yet -- he doesn't think Jensen will pop out of the bushes with a chainsaw, but he also hopes Jensen's not inside making nice with his momma. He steps down out of the Explorer and shuts the door, waving at Eric as he pulls around the cul-de-sac and back down the street. Even from the end of the driveway he can see the garage is closed, so he heads across the lawn for the front door. Halfway there, he sees Jensen sitting on the front porch, slightly hidden behind one of the posts holding up its roof.  
  
"You followed me home." It's not a question because it's obviously true and happening, but Jared reinforces the statement with as much incredulity as he can muster. He doesn't even have to use the word "why."  
  
"Maybe I did." Jensen's face is shadowed in a particularly artistic way. Jared blames the porch light.   
  
"What was so important you couldn't wait to harass me about it on Monday sixth period?"   
  
Jensen fidgets a little. "Can we." He gestures to his Impala. "Do you have to be home right now?"  
  
Jared checks his watch; it's a little after midnight. He remembers telling his momma he'd be in late; he knows she's asleep and his father probably is too. Sighing, he slides his hands in his pockets and says, "Nah. What's up?"  
  
The relieved look on Jensen's face surprises him. "Uh. Let's drive around a little, huh?"  
  
"Sure." They walk to the Impala and get in, shades of that afternoon's handjob still on Jared's mind. Jensen drives without saying anything; without even turning on his obnoxiously loud music. Jared knows something's wrong. "What--" he begins, just as Jensen says, "So--" and they both say "no, go ahead" at the same time.  
  
"So, uh. Mikey caught me after you left."  
  
"Is that right."  
  
"He can be such a dick sometimes."  
  
"Seems to be the only part you care about." There's a long pause during which Jared frantically thinks of things he can say to save his ass. It's kind of a long walk to his house from wherever they are -- somewhere he doesn't recognize, out past the school.  
  
"I, uh. Yeah. I know you saw me with Mikey. And with Tom." Jensen doesn't sound particularly apologetic, but he hasn't dumped Jared in the road, so something must be going right. Or maybe wrong.  
  
Jared crosses his arms over his chest. "Did you think I wasn't going to say anything?"  
  
"Didn't take you for a prude, pond scum."  
  
"Don't *call me that*, okay *Jenny*?" He rests his head against the window and looks at the storefronts while they're stopped at a red light. "I mean, really, what the hell? You do three of us..."  
  
"Four."  
  
"...within a -- four? Do I even want to know who the fourth is?" Jared shouldn't be surprised at this point, but he still is.   
  
"Probably not."  
  
"Tell me anyway."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Dave Boreanaz." Now *that* totally blew the roof off.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Wow what?"  
  
"I thought he was with whatshername... Sarah. The head cheerleader?"   
  
"He is."  
  
"So you..."  
  
"She won't put out. I will. Simple story, really." Jensen shifts his grip on the wheel a little, relaxes his arm muscles.   
  
"Why's he still with her?"  
  
Jensen shrugs. "I dunno. I think he likes her, a lot. He just doesn't want to wait like she does."  
  
"So he's using you?"  
  
"We use each other, Jare. Guy's hot, what can I say? So's your friend Tommy. So's Mikey, come to think of it, though he's more of a dick than he's got." They drive for another two blocks, then, "You think I'm a slut, don't you?"  
  
"Aren't you? I mean, isn't this kind of the *definition* of slut -- having sex with a bunch of guys at once? And don't give me that 'blowjobs aren't sex' talk. Heard it before."  
  
"Hey, I never said anything about all at once."  
  
"But you're still doing them."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why did Mikey tell me you were sweet on me?"  
  
Jensen thumps the steering wheel. "Son of a... Okay, he wasn't supposed to say that. Okay?" His breathing is suddenly harsh and fast, aggravated.  
  
"...is it true?" Jared's not trying to sound hopeful, but that's how it comes out.  
  
"What?" Jensen turns to glance at him, then back at the road. "I, uh. Why?"  
  
"I just want to know. Is it true?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Would it, um." Jared takes a deep breath. "Would it help you answer if I said maybe something similar?"  
  
They fly through the next red light and instinctively Jared kisses both his hands and touches them to the ceiling. To say Jensen is a little excited is the understatement of the century. "You *what*? Are you shitting me? Because if you are I will kick your ass from here to Richardson and back without breaking a sweat." He sounds so serious that Jared's determined to have a little fun with him.  
  
"Aww, what's the matter? You never had somebody actually care before?"  
  
All the relaxation is gone; Jensen's knuckles are white on the wheel. "What are you ..."  
  
"What am I saying? Well, right *now* I'm saying you should find a place to pull over before you get us both *killed*..."  
  
"Ha ha."  
  
Jared drops the joking tone from his voice. "I'm serious about that. Find a place you can stop."  
  
Jensen must take the hint, because within five minutes they're in an office building's parking lot well back from the main road and Jared's leaning back against his door, studying Jensen. "What?"  
  
"Take off your shirt."  
  
"*What*?"  
  
"You heard me; take off your shirt."  
  
The slightly worried look doesn't leave Jensen's face as he pulls his tee up and over his head. Jared grabs it out of his hands and throws it in the back seat. "What was *that* for?"  
  
"So it wouldn't be in the way," Jared replies, and pounces. His mouth almost finds Jensen's -- he's half an inch too far and instead his lips and tongue find a swath of cheek, slightly stubbly, before sliding back that tiny bit and biting down on Jensen's lower lip. When he gasps, Jared takes it as an invitation and slides his tongue right between those lips.  
  
Jensen pushes back, pushes Jared until his back is resting against the steering wheel; Jared arching so he won't hit the horn. The kiss is furious and rough in a way that put their kiss that afternoon to shame. Jared reaches down, his long arm searching until he finds the seat recline lever. He pulls it and pushes Jensen back at the same time, the driver's side bucket seat collapsing back until it nearly hits the back bench. Jared lays on top of Jensen, their mouths still locked, and brings his hands up to Jensen's head, grasping both sides and kissing even more ferociously.   
  
They lay like this for minutes on end, Jared's tee pressed against Jensen's bare chest, legs a jumble and mouths mapping the contours of one another. When Jared finally pulls away, Jensen tips his head back and pants, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. His head comes rapidly back up and he hisses when Jared's tongue finds his right nipple and the slightly rough flat of it goes skating across his chest, painting him in Jared.   
  
Jared's eyes stay fixated on Jensen's and when he's about to swipe his tongue up along the line of Jensen's pecs toward his collarbone, he says, "Mikey or Tommy ever give you this?"   
  
Still panting, Jensen manages a "no" and Jared finishes what he started, sliding his tongue into the hollow just on the left side of Jensen's neck and kissing there. Grinning as much as he can with his lips occupied, Jared slides his mouth up Jensen's neck. Midway up he stops and nips lightly with his teeth. Jensen's shoulders come up and he gives an "ahhhh" involuntarily as Jared finishes leaving his mark and returns to kissing his way down Jensen's chest.   
  
"You did this for me," he says, slightly muffled by speaking into Jensen's bare tan skin, "and my momma taught me to return favors."  
  
Jensen replies with something unintelligible that sounds mostly affirmative and Jared keeps wending his way south. More affirmations to more important questions and Jared's staring at Jensen's belt buckle. He pulls at the leather and denim and finds Jensen's not wearing any underwear. Jared takes a second to absorb that. Jensen sang half a dozen songs at the Winchester tonight while not wearing any underwear. His vision of the night just got a whole lot dirtier.   
  
The last thing he remembers before he has Jensen's dick in his mouth is a hastily-given promise of fidelity, but he's pretty sure Jensen won't remember it in a few minutes, and indeed he finds himself forgetting it in the strangled gasps coming from Jensen's mouth, two and a half feet trunkward of him. He tries swallowing the whole thing at once, but it's too much, so he settles for running his tongue over the head while running one hand up and down the shaft like he'd do for himself and sliding the other over and over Jensen's naked torso, feeling his abs clench, the hardness of his nipples.  
  
Jensen's hips go up a little, involuntarily, and Jared finds his tongue on the underside of the cockhead's rim; he gives it an experimental lick and Jensen nearly screams. He does it again and he's faced with six feet of bucking sophomore, shuddering as he comes. Jared's not going to lick Jensen clean, so he settles for another kiss and a cheery, "It's probably time for me to go home now, don't you think?"


	11. Chapter 11

_highschoolery_ , part 11  
Jensen/Jared high school AU

 

Saturday is bright and warm, with only a few wisps of cloud in the sky. Jared wakes sometime around noon, pads to the bathroom in his boxers and a tee, and scratches his belly while he pees before he remembers what happened the previous night. His morning wood won't go away.   
  
He ignores it for now and pulls on some old jeans before heading downstairs for breakfast. _I will not think about Jensen, I will not think about Jensen, I will not think about Jensen._ It's a mantra, but it's not working; the insistent image in his mind is of Jensen's eyes looking down, meeting Jared's as Jared licked across his chest. Last night. There's no _did I really do that?_ \-- he knows full well he did, and loved every minute of it. The confusing bit is what to do next.   
  
The obvious answer is dating, but they do live in *Texas* and more to the point Jared's not sure he wants to be dating a guy who's been basically whoring himself out to multiple guys at once. He's not even really sure he wants to be dating a *guy*. He really likes how Jensen's lips feel on his dick, though, so there's probably something to that. He sighs and pours himself a third bowl of cereal.  
  
It's Saturday and he's got some chores to do, so he does them, first the easiest of the outside ones, like watering, and then the inside ones during the heat of the day. When he's finally done, it's dinnertime and he's got no plans for the evening. He calls Tom to see how he's doing, and also hopefully to get his rundown of what happened before he got to the Winchester and after he left. Tom invites him over, and they spend much of the evening tossing a football in the Wellings' tiny backyard, Tom talking in coded phrases about Mikey so his momma doesn't catch on.   
  
Tom gets all excited talking about Mikey schooling *Chris* in pool after the show, and about how he and Mikey slipped off to the bathroom at nearly midnight and Tom taught himself how to give a blowjob. He recounts Mikey's failed experiment with Chris back in sophomore year and how they decided to be friends with benefits for a while, until it turned out friends with snarking was better.   
  
Jared brings up his problem, and Tom talks in lazy circles around it, but doesn't say anything of value, which is really more or less what he expected with Tom anyway. Tom's not really bothered by the status quo, doesn't see any reason to change it: why should he? He's got a guy, a good spot on the football team, and a standing invitation to Big Jensen's House of Oral Sex. Jared's pretty sure he said something to Jensen about monogamy, but in the breathless haze from last night, he can't be sure of Jensen's answer, or really even of his question. For all he remembers, it might have been a question about threesomes.   
  
Tossing the football is a good way to pass the time, though, and before he knows it, it's dark outside and Tom's momma is giving him a ride home. He plays a little PlayStation and tries to think, but ends up going to sleep at one, after beating the crap out of some monsters.   
  
Sunday, as days go, is generally better for Jared than for other kids, because of his momma's insistence on doing homework right after school on Friday. Jared spends most of *this* Sunday in a haze of anticipation. He knows that the day Monday will be even worse, the clock physically slowing as sixth period approaches, but it's not Monday yet. It's agonizing enough that Jared's father even catches it. "What've you got tomorrow that you're so antsy?"  
  
"Me? Nothing," Jared says between bites of mashed potato.  
  
His father raises his eyebrow. "Which explains why you've been off the walls all day."  
  
"Just trying to get used to having Sundays free when nobody else does, I guess." He glances significantly at his momma. "Didn't happen all summer, and now I've gotta get back to that."  
  
"Jared, you know I'm doing it for your own good," his momma says, and he does. That's just the kind of person she is. Still...  
  
"Yeah, time management and all that. Too bad nobody else does it." He saws through his steak. His father's one of the best in town with a grill. "Good steak, Dad." His father acknowledges the compliment with a wave of his fork, his mouth full.   
  
He eats and listens to his parents talk for a little bit before his momma asks, "so when will you know if you make the swim team?" Which, of course, brings back all the mental pictures he's tried to get rid of so he won't be so hard all the time.  
  
"Uh, well, tryouts are at the end of November, right before Thanksgiving," he says. His momma does not look amused.  
  
"So they're making you swim for two whole months before they even tell you anything?"  
  
"I'd have to do PE anyway, momma."  
  
"Still, it seems unfair that they'd train a whole lot of you, then cut, I don't know, half, or however many they cut." They've finished, and she starts gathering the dishes, stacking the plates in the sink and slicing the remaining steak thinly before putting it in a covered dish and in the refrigerator.  
  
"I guess." Jared picks up the glasses and silverware and follows his momma. He rinses the dishes and slides them into the dishwasher. "But if I wasn't swimming I'd be running sprints. I'd rather be in the pool."  
  
"Weren't," his mother corrects, automatically. "Well, if you're happy with it."   
  
Two months of torment by Jensen and two dozen other guys in Speedos? Jared could live with that. Especially if they're -- he breaks off that line of thought, but it's already raced directly downward and he makes his way to the upstairs bathroom as quickly and quietly as he can.


	12. Chapter 12

_highschoolery_ , part 12  
Jensen/Jared high school AU

Whacking off in the upstairs bathroom, Jared finds, isn't nearly as satisfying as having Jensen's lips wrapped around his dick. Something about that seems obvious, but it hasn't stopped him from trying. Besides, as horny as he's been lately, it's not like a little self-love right now is going to affect his dick tomorrow. When he's done, he plays some video games and has to count himself to sleep.   
  
For most of Jared's classmates, the first bell Monday is the least welcome sound in the world -- a week's worth of classes sits between them and the blissfully free weekend -- but for Jared it means only four hours to sixth period and the pool. He's lucky and doesn't get called on for anything all morning -- and then Tricia catches him on the way down the hall toward the gym.   
  
"Jared? You know we have lunch now, right?"  
  
"Trish! Oh, of course. I mean, right. Lunch after cultures."  
  
Tricia eyes him suspiciously. "You feeling all right?"  
  
"Yeah, just." Jared forces a laugh. "Beginning of the year, right? I'll get my schedule down soon."  
  
She shrugs it off just as easily as he hopes she will, and within minutes Jared's ears are full of Tricia's clique analysis of Friday's show at the Winchester. "...and I told Sheila that she couldn't get away with that, but Megan told her and she listened; I don't know why I bother explaining things when I just have to get juniors to say one thing and I get the same effect--"  
  
"What did you think of the band?"  
  
Tricia starts. "Oh, right, there was a band. They were okay, I guess?" She finishes off her sandwich, pops a piece of gum, and starts smacking away. "You know, Lisa was totally all over Adam while the band was onstage, and I could totally hold that over her head because her momma doesn't want her kissing boys until she's at *least* sixteen, which I told her shouldn't matter, but there's some things her momma just doesn't..."  
  
Jared tunes the rest of it out, nodding where he knows he's expected and making generally accepting noises. If she didn't see the band she didn't see Jensen get onstage, and his... whatever with Jensen afterward won't make its way around school. He's relieved about that, at least; while he'd like to get some high-fives for bagging the swim team manager before the season even starts, he's not sure that's exactly what happened -- who got whom is still kind of a fuzzy question. He balls up his lunch bag and makes a three-point shot into the trash. Pity he's not built enough for basketball yet.  
  
He stops himself then; that's his father talking. He doesn't want to play basketball, he wants to swim. He's built like a swimmer, he's got big hands and big feet and he'll be great, Coach said so. And Jensen isn't managing the basketball team. But would he?  
  
Bobby Austin catches Jared outside the lunchroom and the two of them head off to Spanish together, after a hasty "later!" to Tricia.  
  
"I don't know why you hang out with that chick, Jare. You're not exactly in her league."  
  
Jared rolls his eyes. "Right, Bobbo. 'Cause you're gonna bag yourself a cheerleader any day now."  
  
Bobby's hands come up in a defensive "who, me?" gesture and he grins. "I'm just sayin', you might prefer a girl with more than one brain cell."  
  
"But did *you* know that Lisa and Adam were making out at Friday's show?" Jared asks, eyes wide, in a tone of fake incredulity. "I sure wouldn't have without Trish!" They laugh and open their _libros_ to page _trenta y uno_ for some other bullshit vocabulary lesson. Jared knows most of this stuff; it's not hard and the class moves at the pace of molasses in Fargo in February, so he uses classtime to finish his algebra -- worksheets are easy to sneak into textbooks, and they haven't had textbook problems in algebra yet this year. Of course, he spends more time plotting how to get Jensen in the showers, water running down, cool, between their bodies, alternating warm and chill flesh, breath on each others' lips...  
  
The bell rings and Jared starts, the Spanish classroom returning around him. Bobby smacks him on the shoulder as he passes and says, "Mind if I call you tonight about this?" and Jared manages to nod.   
  
He gathers up his things and, trying his best to hide a rather obvious hardon, dashes down to the gym wing, not just breaking but obliterating school rule #7: no running in the halls. He pushes into the guys' locker room and is awash in changing swimmers: acres of bare skin and a couple dozen stretchy black swimsuits. He's out of his clothes as soon as he can wade to his locker, slipping on his Speedo and grabbing his goggles on his way to the showers.   
  
Jared slips into the pool at the tail end of the pack; he's not late this time, but he hasn't had a chance to look around, either. He doesn't have to; the voice calling out instructions isn't Jensen's; it's Coach's. Thirty minutes, five dozen laps, ten relay sprints, and a ridiculous amount of treading water later, all the swimmer hopefuls haul themselves out of the water; Jensen still hasn't shown.   
  
Dejected, Jared follows the pack back into the showers, washing the cholorine from his body and shampooing it from his hair. He's got to make it to seventh period English, but at the moment he's content to stand under the showerhead and sigh. He hears the last clump of his teammates exit the locker room, the door closing heavy behind them, and reaches up to turn off the water.   
  
"This a private party, or can anybody join?" Jensen's right eye is shiny with a really spectacular bruise, but he's leaning in the doorway to the locker room and grinning in that cheeky way that makes Jared's dick jump.   
  
Jared launches himself at Jensen, pinning him to the doorframe and devouring his mouth. When Jensen turns to the side and breaks the kiss, they're both a little short of breath.   
  
"Guess you missed me, pond scum. Aww, I'm touched." Jensen's not looking at Jared, which makes his sarcastic tone all the more biting. He's turned his bruised eye to face the wall so Jared won't see. It doesn't work.  
  
"Jezus, what happened to your eye?" Jared raises his hand and cups the back of Jensen's head, forcing it to turn to face him. "That's a hell of a black one -- somebody knee you there?"  
  
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Don't you have class or something?" Jensen shrugs out of Jared's grip and walks around him.   
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Me? Nothing. But you've got about fifty seconds before you're gonna need a late slip, and I've got to apologize to Coach, so why don't you run along, now."  
  
"I'm *serious*, Jensen. You want me to black the other one? 'Cause I will, you know."  
  
Jensen snorts. "Right. Hit from both sides. That'll look great; nice and even." He sighs. "Just get out of here." Jared steps toward him and Jensen's eyes seem to harden. "I mean it, pond scum."  
  
Jared's mouth gets really tight and his chest heaves, but he finally breaks eye contact with Jensen and heads toward his locker. Jensen passes through the showers to the pool deck and Jared doesn't see him again that day.


	13. Chapter 13

_highschoolery_ , part 13  
Jensen/Jared high school AU

 

Taking the bus home is a fitting end to a day full of anticlimaxes, and Jared spends the ride in a mostly sullen mood, eyes out the window. It's not like they're *boyfriends*, right? Jensen's his manager. That's all. Just his manager who likes to blow him in the stands, or the bleachers, or the back seat of his car. So much for that line of reasoning. The next thought running through his head is the satisfying thud that would emerge if his fist *had* made contact with Jensen face, and even though Jared feels bad for Jensen, a little full-contact violence would certainly make *Jared* feel better right now.   
  
His change in attitude isn't lost on his parents, but they exchange looks over the dinner table and don't bother him, content to let him wallow in his teenage misery. Really, Jared's grateful for that, because he'd rather not try and explain whatever fucked-up thing is going on between him and Jensen to his parents.   
  
Bobby calls around ten o'clock and Jared fields Spanish questions while doing algebra -- until Bobby says, "So how would you say 'I punched some guy in the face when he tried to kiss me?'"  
  
" _Perforé a_... wait, who tried to kiss you?"  
  
"Jare!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm serious, what did you do to that Ackles guy?"  
  
"This is about *me*?"  
  
"You mean Kelly didn't tell you?"  
  
"Kelly who?"  
  
"I dunno, Kelly something, the sophomore with the huge tits in Biology. Wait, I guess since she's not one of *Tricia's* friends, you wouldn't have heard..."  
  
Jared rolls his eyes. "Right, Bobby. Because me and Tricia, we're joined at the freaking *hip*."  
  
Bobby snorts. "You're denying the bit about Tricia, but not Ackles?"  
  
"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Dude, he went into the locker room when you were the only one there -- and came out with a *monster* of a black eye. Tyler and me thought he might've tried to put a move on you. That's the only way we could see you decking him. Besides, that's," and here he lowers his voice to a whisper. "That's how he got kicked out of his old school."  
  
"What, getting beat up?"  
  
"No, doofus!" Bobby laughs, and then finishes, quietly: "macking on some guy."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Just what I heard. But I bet it's true. What kind of guy cheerleads, anyway?"  
  
"Heard it's big up in Dallas."  
  
"I knew the kids up in Dallas were pussies; this just proves it. So didja hit him?"  
  
"No! I mean, no, I didn't hit him. And he didn't try anything. Christ."  
  
"Just checking, man. Anyway, I gotta go; my momma's giving me that look like she's deciding between beating me over the head with the phone or putting it permanently in my ear."  
  
"Riiiight."  
  
"I'm serious -- do not come between my momma and her phone."  
  
Jared laughs. "Sure. Catch you tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, later J."  
  
When Bobby hangs up, Jared replaces the phone in its cradle and makes for his bedroom, head spinning. He finds himself massaging his muscles, still tired from laps, and drifts off into an uneasy sleep.   
  
When Jared wakes up, from a really hot dream, he's disappointed. There are some things that should never be interrupted by something as boring as waking up, and having Jensen's mouth wrapped around his dick is one of them. Which of course leads to thoughts of Jensen; Jared knows that he has to corner Jensen and find out what the hell is going on, if only to clear his name.   
  
The morning is a blur; Jared's pretty sure he answered some homework problems in Algebra, but he spends most of Biology looking for Bobby's friend Kelly, and how weird is it that he never noticed how many of the girls in his Bio class have huge tits? He couldn't pick Kelly out of a lineup on tit size alone, that's for sure. Something about the Krebs cycle flits through his ears and Jared tries to pay attention and look like he's not checking out every girl in the room of size C and larger. World cultures continues to be a bullshit class, but coming out of it Tricia grabs his arm tightly and doesn't let go until they're seated in a corner of the lunchroom with her staring at him wide- and wild-eyed.  
  
"You came to school today?"  
  
Jared blinks. "What?"  
  
"I asked why you came to school -- the whole student body thinks you slugged that Jensen guy, and somebody told me Downer's going to come down on you like a ton of bricks." She's not quite in airhead mode, and Jared's wondering why. She almost seems... protective.  
  
"But Trish, I didn't *do* anything."  
  
"You're joking, right? I mean, Coach Harris is the first guy who saw him after you did, and his eye was pretty blacked."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
She looks shocked. "So you're admitting it? It's all over school, Jared."  
  
"No, I mean he'd already gotten hit or whatever before I saw him -- I was late leaving the locker room and he came shuffling through with this monster bruise and said he was going to apologize to Coach."  
  
Tricia's brow furrows, which looks infuriatingly cute on her. "But Marcy's friend Patty's sister Lisa--"  
  
"Who?"  
  
She gives an exasperated sigh. "You *know*," she insists, "the junior with the long red hair and freckles? I heard her tell Karen that her boyfriend Danny saw Jensen go into the locker room looking just fine, right as he was leaving."  
  
"Then I don't know what ha... wait, Danny? Danny Whitehurst?"  
  
"I think so. I mean, they're not really super-popular and they're juniors, so I don't know *exactly*, but..." Tricia smacks her gum. "Why?"  
  
"Danny wasn't in the pool yesterday."  
  
"So?"   
  
"So, don't you... oh, nevermind."  
  
"What?"   
  
"Nah, forget it. I just need to find out who *did* do it so I don't get busted for something I didn't do."  
  
"I guess." Tricia pulls open her lunch bag. "Just be careful today; I'd say don't let Downer catch you *anywhere*."  
  
Jared snorts. "Right, because I plan on marching in front of the principal's office with a big sign that says 'I DID IT, PUNISH ME'."  
  
She giggles. "So you wanna hear about Allie's sweet sixteen? She was telling me *all* about it during English."  
  
"Sixteen? Isn't she a little old to be in freshman english?"  
  
"Oh, well she failed it last year, and she's got to take it again. But anyway, she's been telling anyone who will listen about how her dad is going to rent out the..."  
  
The bell rings, saving Jared from yet more discussion of dresses and the school's crazy social web. He makes it through Spanish without incident, but when he heads out the door after class, Bobby catches his shoulder.  
  
"What's up, Bobby? I've gotta run to the pool." Jared half-turns, looking over his shoulder.  
  
Bobby looks him up and down and says, "Just don't do anything stupid."  
  
"What *is* it with everybody?" Jared vents. "I didn't *do* anything!"  
  
"Right. Just make sure you keep not doing anything." Bobby adjusts the one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and grins at Jared. "Or whatever."  
  
With that ringing endorsement in his ears, Jared makes for the pool. As usual, he's the last one in the locker room and the last one through the showers to the pool deck. Coach is there instead of Jensen, holding the clipboard with the whistle slung around his neck. He looks at Jared appraisingly and says "my office, now" in a tone of voice that brooks absolutely not argument. Jared sighs and heads in that direction; Coach's is the only office connected to the pool deck.   
  
Nothing could have prepared him, though, for seeing Jensen sprawled out on the office's couch, holding an icepack to his eye and one on his knee, which Jared can see is bright red and swollen. Jared feels his heart leap into his throat.  
  
"Hey, pond scum."


	14. Chapter 14

_highschoolery_ , part 14  
Jensen/Jared high school AU

"Jezus, Jen, what happened?"  
  
"Well," Jensen says, pushing himself to sit up while leaving his bad leg straight on the couch, "if you believe the rest of the school, you happened."  
  
Jared laughs nervously. "Right. So I've been hearing all day."  
  
"What have you got to say for yourself, young man?" Jensen says, and it's such a spot-on imitation of the principal that Jared smiles, wide and goofy; any worry he might have had about Jensen saying Jared hit him is gone. And, almost immediately, replaced by worry for Jensen.  
  
"You're not looking too hot."  
  
"You really know how to make a guy feel great, you know that?"  
  
"I'm serious; you know who did it? You should go after 'em."  
  
Jensen pulls the icepack away from his face and looks at Jared, incredulous. "You really don't have a clue, do you? When there's three of them and one of me, shit like this happens." He gestures to his knee. "And I can't exactly go bash their brains out right now, what with being crippled and all."  
  
"But there's got to be *something*--"  
  
"What, like going to the principal? Right." Jensen snorts. Then, in a high, effeminate voice, he says "Hi, Mr. Downer? I'd like to report a sexual orientation-related assault. Nevermind that my school record says I got kicked out of LVB for sucking cock in one of the theater dressing rooms, I really wasn't doing anything to encourage it!" He rolls his eyes and drops back down to his baritone. "We're not exactly in San Francisco, Toto. Fag bashing's practically a sport."  
  
"Hey, don't say shit like that."  
  
"Why, 'cause it's *true*?" Jensen sneers. He moves the icepack back to his face. "You got a lot to learn, pond scum. I hope you never have to."  
  
"No, I mean. Shit, just tell me who did it so I can find a crowbar and smash it through their windshield." There's some righteous anger in Jared's voice, and it's new, exciting, and a little terrifying that he feels this way.   
  
"Wouldn't do any good."  
  
"Doesn't matter; they gotta know they can't pull that shit--"  
  
"You boys want to explain yourselves?" Coach's voice comes from right behind Jared, who starts wildly, limbs going everywhere.   
  
Jared finds himself unable to say anything, so he's relieved when Jensen starts in with, "Well, it depends on how much of the story you want."  
  
"Assume I want the short version."  
  
"Easy enough: some people think Padalecki beat the snot out of me; he didn't. End of story."  
  
Coach crosses his arms in the universal adult gesture for "I totally don't believe you," and Jared wonders if they teach that in schools -- he's tried it himself, but always comes off looking like an idiot in front of the mirror.   
  
"How aboout the version where you tell me why you're hiding out in my office instead of running practice? Or, apparently, going to class?" He holds up a couple of absentee forms. "Missing from periods one through seven yesterday and one through five today. And that's only because the day's not over. Were you planning on skipping seventh, too?"  
  
"Maybe." Jensen's looking at the wall.  
  
"'Maybe' is not an acceptable answer, Jensen. You can talk all you want about what you do outside of class right now and I won't listen -- that's between y'all and the wall. But you skip out on classes and I'm supposed to speak up. And you miss cheerleading practice, I'm even *more* supposed to speak up. We've got few enough guy cheerleaders already; you want Babcock to deal with you, her star base, skipping? So you'd damn well better give me a reason to stop from reporting you like I'm supposed to."  
  
"Sorry, Coach." Jensen says it with a roll of his eyes, and Jared's half afraid Jensen will end up with another injury -- a clipboard to the face.  
  
"You know I can always call your parents."  
  
That shuts Jensen up really quickly. "No, sir." He pulls the icepack away from his face and his eyes are dark. "I mean, please don't, Coach."  
  
"Give me a reason not to."  
  
Jensen's face is a mask of indecision -- Jared can practically *see* him wrestling internally with something. Finally, he says "Do you know why I'm here? And not 'sitting in your office' here; I mean 'at Madison' here."  
  
"If it's about that mark on your record, I think Jared had better go do some laps while we talk abo--"  
  
"No, I want him to hear this, too, seeing as I'm practically up for a repeat." That startles Jared -- he'd heard Jensen was kicked out for sucking some guy off; Jensen had admitted as much. Why was he telling Coach Harris, and what was Jared in for? "I'm telling you this 'cause I trust you -- both of you," Jensen continues, and there's another surprise statement, "and 'cause I don't think you'll dick me over about it."  
  
"Jen--" Jared tries for supportive and understanding, but only ends up with whiny.   
  
"No, gimme a minute," Jensen cuts him off. "You know I was kicked out of LVB? The record says 'misconduct' because they don't have a category for 'blowjob'. Four-thirty on a Friday, I'm down in one of the backstage dressing rooms in the theater with this guy, Josh Jackson. Good guy. I guess you could say we were doing whatever horny fifteen-year-olds do after school, but the truth was, I liked him, you know? I'd had him over a couple times, and we did the teenage thing at my place, and we were pretty good. Anyhow, the door slams back and it's my asshole principal who had an 'anonymous tip' that shit would be going down and it just *happened* to lead to my ass being kicked out. Josh's parents paid off the principal to drop the charge and let Josh keep going -- some bullshit argument about my tempting him to his moral demise and a couple thousand bucks and Josh's sitting pretty. *My* parents..." he laughs a couple times, short and rueful. "My parents said they wouldn't pay and packed up everything to move down here, get me 'away from sin'."  
  
Jared has to fight the urge to do something comforting -- though given the situation, he's not sure *what* he'd do; maybe a manly clap on the shoulder or punch in the arm.   
  
"Josh emailed me a couple weeks before school began, said he'd figured out who ratted us out." Jensen tosses the icepack a few inches in the air and catches it, then does it again. "It was my dad." He throws the icepack against the far wall, and it makes a wet thud and a little bit of a cracking sound, then falls to the floor. "Josh started dating some guy named Kerr a couple days ago; they really like each other, Josh says. Whoop dee fucking doo."  
  
Coach hasn't said anything this whole time, and Jared only remembers he's in the room when he clears his throat and says, "None of which explains your eye or knee." To Jared that sounds like nothing so much as a blessing.  
  
"Yeah, I'm getting to that. You know Dave Borea-- of course you do. Dave, the quarterback." Coach nods and Jensen continues, "He and I... whatever, it was like Josh only without the really liking him part. It's like, you do what your parents say not to, you know?" Jared doesn't bother to point out that it was hardly just Dave.   
  
He doesn't say anything for a minute or so, and just as Jared's about to ask "So what about him?" when Jensen says, "I broke off our little standing engagement a couple days ago. When I heard about Josh and Kerr." His eyes are downcast and his voice has dropped in volume considerably. "They--" He pauses. "They were happy and I wasn't." He breathes in and out, short and decisive, and goes on: "Dave kind of understood. Maybe, I guess. We didn't really talk much about it. But he must've said something to *somebody* because Jimmy Marsters slugged me one two nights ago, and then he showed up today with Eliza and Julie and when I got Jimmy in the stomach, Liza smashed my knee with her field hockey stick. Mystery solved, okay?"  
  
Nobody says anything for a bit, and the three of them seem content to just let the sound of splashing from the pool wash over them. Then, Coach Harris says, "So I can't report them because you're the only witness, but also because if you speak up they'll tell your dad, and I can't call your dad because he'll find out what was going on. So what, do I have to tell Coach Babcock that she gets to sit idly by and watch one of her players get smacked around until he's in traction?"  
  
"No, just." Jensen sighs. "I'll handle it."  
  
"Jimmy drives a 350, right? Black, because he thinks it's cool?" Jared's still got visions of crowbars dancing through his head.  
  
Coach raises his eyebrow. "350? Sounds like somebody's overcompensating." Jared and Jensen look at him, speechless. "What? I'm like ten years older than you, I'm still young enough to have a sense of humor."


	15. Chapter 15

_highschoolery_ , part 15  
Jensen/Jared high school AU

Coach dismisses Jared, warning him to get in as many laps as he can before the bell. "I'll get the rest later; don't think I won't," is Coach's ominous parting shot, and Jared ducks out of his office and jumps right in lane four, where Cutter is just finishing up a lap. Jared kicks off the wall and just glides for a minute, enjoying the water. He reaches long and pulls hard, rocketing down the lane, trying to make up for what Coach will consider lost time. His body takes over after a couple laps, autopilot kicking in and letting him zone out, oblivious to anything but the rush of the water over his skin and the spray that he takes in every time he turns his head to breathe.   
  
When he notices the pool emptying, he hauls himself out onto the tiled surface of the pool deck, dripping, and starts to head toward Coach's office before he notices the door is closed and the lights are off. Surprised, he follows the herd back into the showers before drying himself off and changing in the locker room. Tony Anzetti's the one to speak first, and it's not until he does that Jared realizes the locker room has been unusually quiet today.   
  
"So, did you get busted?"  
  
Jared knows exactly what he's asking, but refuses to rise to the bait. Instead, he furrows his brow and asks, "What for?"  
  
Tony looks around and lowers his voice. "For smacking around our *manager*, dumbass," he says, and the way he says it, Jared can't tell whether or not Tony thinks Jensen's black eye is a good thing.  
  
"How could I get busted if I didn't do it?" Jared calmly unwraps his towel and drops his swimsuit, swiping over his legs with the towel before pulling on his boxers and then socks and jeans.   
  
"Dude, don't play dumb with us, we know you did it. Danny *saw* you."  
  
Jared just looks at Tony and laughs. "Everybody keeps saying 'we know you did it' and your only source is a guy who wasn't even there!" He shrugs his t-shirt on and shakes his head to settle his hair, then sticks his suit, towel, and goggles in his gym bag and grabs his backpack. "Danny Whitehurst wasn't even in school yesterday; how could he have seen anything?" Jared slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door. "If we were acting anything like a *team*, you'd be asking who *really* slugged our manager, 'cause we swimmers have to stick together. But I suck in the motivational speeches department -- take that up with Coach." With barely a look back, he's out the door and into the hallway, headed for English.  
  
Because karma is sometimes a bitch, fifteen minutes later Jared finds himself staring at a sheet of paper he's labeled "pop quiz" and frantically trying to remember any of the authors on the freshman class's summer reading list. His momma had made him read most of the books, but since he did that early in the summer, trying to remember feels like beating his head against the tiny grouted tiles of the pool deck. He scribbles a few names that sound vaguely familiar and moves on to the question about coming-of-age themes. It's very nearly a relief to hear "pencils down, ladies and gentlemen, pencils down" and the shuffle of papers being handed forward.   
  
"This quiz will count for exactly five percent of your grade for this quarter; any complaints about the format of the class and grading must be made in writing." Mr. Gadsen's craggy face cracks a smile and he says, "So I can run them through the paper shredder." Jared rolls his eyes at the old guy's attempt at humor and opens his textbook to the literary example they're going to discuss. Three minutes after his lame joke, Gadsen has slouched back into the unceasing monotone he employs for lecture, and Jared is reduced to doodling in the margins of his notebook -- he draws a really unflattering cartoon of Jimmy Marsters's face and, just for fun, adds vampire fangs. The bell rings and Jared looks at his scowling creation.   
  
"Sucker," he says, and draws a crowbar above his head, with speed lines showing it hurtling down rapidly.   
  
All thoughts of Jimmy and his revenge fantasy are pushed from Jared's head, though, when he opens his locker and finds a slip of paper on top of his remaining books: _need a ride home?_ It's not signed, but it doesn't need to be, and Jared knows exactly where to go.  
  
"Didn't know if you'd come," Jensen says, when Jared finds him in the gym wing lobby.   
  
"Liar."  
  
"What, I'm not allowed to worry?" He's smiling, though, and Jared tries to resist the urge to smile back.   
  
"You, uh," Jared looks down.  
  
"What."  
  
When he looks back up, Jared is grinning evilly. "Find a crowbar yet?" Jensen laughs, and it's the best sound Jared's heard in... well, okay, since Friday when Jensen was moaning his name in the car. And with *that* memory coming to the forefront... "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Wait." Jensen hasn't moved.   
  
Panic starts to set in; isn't Jensen taking him home? "What?" Jared tries not to let too much worry slip into his voice, but he's genuinely terrified, and the fact that he cares enough to worry worries him even more.  
  
"I want you to know that--"  
  
"Look, stop. If this is something I don't want to hear, can you please not say it until you've dropped me off at home?" Jared bites his lip. "The buses kind of just left."  
  
Jensen smiles and says, "It's tough for me to say, but probably not tough for you to hear." He breathes. "I just wanted you to know that you and me? Is not like me and Dave."  
  
"Then... oh." Jared blushes. "I. Uh."  
  
"Nah, don't say anything. Let's take you home, pond scum."  
  
Jensen's limping, but it's not that bad, or at least he's not letting Jared see that it is. They climb into the Impala and Jensen starts the engine, revving her a couple of times; Jensen breathes a happy sigh. "That's my baby." Jared laughs easily.  
  
When Jensen turns off well before Jared's street, Jared doesn't say anything, but he does kind of start to wonder. They pull up in front of a house Jared's never seen before and Jensen shuts off the engine. "Where are we, Jen?"  
  
"Not at your place."  
  
Jared looks at him. "I had *gathered* that, actually. I was just wondering where *this* is."  
  
"I don't actually know. And I don't care. But we're not near your place and we're not near mine, so I can do this." He reaches over with both hands, wraps them around the back of Jared's head, pulls him forward, and kisses him right on the lips. With tongue. It's a forceful kiss, but Jared leans right back into it, giving as much as he gets.  
  
And at that moment, nothing else really matters.

 

 

Fin


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